The Story of Paul Boyton Part 34

Peter Behan, a famous guide and one of the first who ever piloted a wagon train across the plains to California. The voyagers were tendered the freedom of the city and were hospitably entertained. Next morning the journey was resumed amid deafening plaudits.

Speed was now the one thing necessary and Boyton knew there would be some chance of finishing their trip on skates if they did not reach St. Louis ahead of the cold wave that was setting down the river. They pa.s.sed the United States snag boat, Wright, directly after leaving Kansas City and in the evening paddled by Berlin. Wild geese and ducks were still seen in great numbers at places and several mud hens were run down and killed. At Camden and many other towns, bonfires were built by the enthusiastic citizens who were determined to catch sight of the hardy navigator, whether he pa.s.sed by in the night or day.

They had now four hundred miles ahead of them. The winter had closed in with great severity. The ice formed rapidly in the river and they met daily snow storms. At the same time the river raised and increased their speed so that they easily made ten or twelve miles an hour.

Below Wellington, at two o'clock one morning, the voyagers mounted a pile of driftwood to rest. Building a fire they went to sleep, but toward daylight they were startled to find their camp was afloat, which caused them to resume the journey rather earlier than they had intended.

Below Lexington, Paul shot a beautiful pair of white heron measuring seven feet from tip to tip. After pa.s.sing Booneville, the banks of the river became more permanent and they pa.s.sed through a rich grape growing country, populated mainly by Germans, who have established large wine vaults and make much wine. At Jefferson City, they were met by the Mayor and tendered the freedom of the city. That night they were shown through a wine vault and learned that the soil in that country was as rich and identical with that of the best wine growing districts of the Rhine.

Wagon teams were crossing on the ice along the upper river. Paul was much reduced in flesh, and his face bronzed like an Indian's.

At last, one Sunday morning, sixty-four days after the trip was begun, they camped for the last time at the mouth of the Missouri where it empties into the Mississippi. St. Louis was twenty miles away. They entered that city during the afternoon and were given a tremendous reception. This voyage of 3,580 miles was the longest and roughest journey Boyton ever made.

CHAPTER XXII.

The long, trying voyage of the Yellowstone and Missouri gave Paul a keen relish for a few week's rest at home. He recuperated so rapidly, however, that when he received an invitation from a friend to go on a hunting expedition aboard a private steamboat, he was ripe to accept it.

The steamer was then on the Mississippi and Paul joining her at Memphis, her nose was turned for southwestern waters. They steamed up the Arkansas to Bayou Meta, and were soon far in the depths of the woods.

Though the water of the bayou was very deep, it was so narrow at places that trees and vines had to be cut away so the boat could push her way through. Several weeks were spent in shooting deer and bear, catching c.o.o.n, opossum and other game. At their manufactured salt licks, they succeeded in taking all the deer they wanted. Boyton's love for pets quickly manifested itself and every odd corner of the little steamer had an occupant. Among these was a cub bear, captured after killing the old one, by throwing a coat over it. It was a vicious little brute at first, spitting and clawing at everything that went near it, and it seemed impossible to train. After many things had been tried without avail, a stick with some honey on its end was thrust between the bars of the cage. The little fellow struck at it wickedly at first, but noticing the honey on its paws, began to smell, then to taste it. The honey was so much to its liking that it was soon eating out of Boyton's hand and in a short time it was as tame and playful as a kitten.

Tiring of hunting, Paul was taken with a desire to feel the current of the Arkansas, to which river they returned and with such intention, he packed his dress and tender and proceeded to Ft. Smith, starting above that city at the mouth of the Poteau river, Choctaw Nation, Indian Territory, January 12th, 1882, for a four hundred mile run to Pine Bluff. The weather was cold and the chill of Rocky Mountain snow was in the river. The course was rather lonely, winding amid bleak hills and for long stretches there would be small signs of life. At the end of the first day's paddling, he hauled up at a farm house to request shelter for the night. A woman told him that the men were not in yet, but she "reckoned he could stay, though there was no bed." Paul told her he did not require a bed and when the men came in they tendered him the comforts of the cabin. After supper the time was pa.s.sed in chatting over their pipes around a s.p.a.cious fireplace, in front of which, Paul was to sleep. During the evening he admired a beautiful little girl four years of age. She was as shy at first as she was pretty; but finally mustered sufficient courage to edge timidly up to his side and ask:

"Please sah, gimme a chaw tobacca?"

"Why, my dear little girl you do not chew tobacco at your age, do you?"

exclaimed Paul.

"Yo' bet she do, stranger," answered the father, "she's jus' a chawer from away back," at the same time giving her a goodly sized piece of the weed.

The mother, who was attending to score domestic affairs, overheard the conversation and turning to Paul, remarked:

"Now, stranger, do yo' raily think uts right t' give a chile like thet tobacca?"

"Decidedly I do not," said Paul.

"Look ut thet; look ut thet, Dan," she exclaimed triumphantly, addressing her husband, "even a stranger don't think uts right. What hev I allus been a tellin' yo'?"

The farmer laughed as he replied: "Oh, she'll git over thet w'en she gits sixteen an' goes sparkin' an' wants t' whiten her teeth."

Leaving the hospitable farm house with the tobacco question still unsettled, an early start was made for a run to Ozark. Before reaching, that place, he was driven past a high wood-covered b.u.t.te when he heard the rhythmic melody of a plantation song and observed an old negro pulling across the stream below. For the purpose of a little amus.e.m.e.nt, Paul stood up and shouted:

"Aha, I've got you now."

The darkey facing around, caught sight of the curious figure. The look of fright which shone on his black features, was woeful as he struck for the sh.o.r.e, yelling:

"'Taint mine; 'taint mine, sah; it's de kunnel's, 'taint mine."

When within four feet of the sh.o.r.e, he sprang out, leaving the dugout to drift. Not wishing to frighten the darkey into the loss of his boat, Paul pulled in and ran it up on the bank. He then noticed that she had a cargo of stone jugs filled with "Arkansaw lightning," held in with corn cob stoppers. The negro was engaged in the missionary work of smuggling the liquor to Indians on the reservation. As Paul swung off into mid stream, he saw a pair of frightened eyes shining at him from among the bushes.

That night he rested at Ozark. For two days following, the weather was very bad. The first night he was compelled to camp on a sand bar for a few hours and build a fire to thaw himself. The rest so invigorated him that he paddled into the night of the second day. Sleet coated his dress until he resembled a cake of ice and his paddle became so thick that he could scarcely handle it. About nine o'clock he went ash.o.r.e and found a cabin, the light from a blazing fire within shining through the c.h.i.n.ks between the logs. He hammered on the door and was invited to enter. As he pushed in, a line, of black, kinky heads raised from beds on the floor, and several pairs of eyes gazed inquiringly in the direction of the door. When the glistening black figure was discovered, some shrieked and covered their heads. A powerful negro jumped up and seized an ax, moving rapidly toward Boyton with it uplifted.

"What's the matter with you?" said Paul, stepping back a few paces toward the door, "put down that ax. I am on a trip down the river and seeking shelter."

After some persuasion, the negro put the ax down in a handy corner and gave his queer guest permission to sleep in front of the fireplace, while the family peered at him curiously from under their bed clothes.

At daylight they all crawled out to see him start and they formed quite a large gathering. It was the sight of a lifetime with them and their yells of delight were unrestrained as he pulled away towing the Baby, which was covered with ice.

As Boyton approached Dardenelle, a party of reporters met him in skiffs.

He was informed that a steaming hot breakfast was prepared for him at a hotel and invited to stop; but feeling in good shape, he thought he would go ahead. Mr. James K. Perry, a merchant of Dardenelle, whom Paul had met in New Orleans, rowed up and was so pressing in his offers of hospitality, that the voyager could not refuse. A perfect ma.s.s of humanity had gathered at the wharf and a carriage was there to convey him to the hotel. He was soon divested of his rubber dress and made quite comfortable. An invitation from Mr. Perry to dine at his house was refused because of lack of clothing; but the hospitable citizens would not allow a little thing like that to stand in the way of his pleasure, and they attired him in a brand new suit from head to foot. The pantaloons had to be held up as he walked along the streets and were the source of much amus.e.m.e.nt. There were numerous other guests at the dinner and he spent a most pleasant day and evening.

Next morning was dark and threatening when he resumed the voyage. He hoped to make Lewisburg that night. Toward evening he again ran into rain and sleet which almost blinded him and the numerous islands made it difficult for him to keep the channel. Seeing smoke pouring from a cabin that stood dangerously near the brink, he sounded the bugle in hope of stirring up some one from whom he could glean a little information. A frowsy individual sauntered out, glanced over the river and without displaying the least interest, was proceeding to arrange some crocks and pans about the cabin door.

"h.e.l.lo, my friend," shouted Paul.

The man slowly turned and ramming both hands into his breeches' pockets, calmly eyed the figure in the water. As he was turning toward the cabin again, without a word, Boyton asked:

"How far is it to Lewisburg?"

"Its a putty good distance," slowly answered the man. "How far do you call that?" "I don't never call ut as I knows on."

"Look here, my good-"

"Ain't I a lukin?"

"Well, is Lewisburg one mile, five miles or a thousand miles from here?"

"I reckon its one o' them numbers."

Paul was beginning to feel out of humor, but realized that he was conversing with a lineal descendant of the "Arkansaw Traveler;" he determined to get some information. Pointing to an island just below, he again put a question:

"Which side of that island shall I take?"

"Any side thet you're a mind to."